


One

by playswithworms



Series: Protectobot Beginnings [19]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playswithworms/pseuds/playswithworms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Protectobots reach an important milestone in the midst of war.  Angst. Fluff. Cuddlepile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One

**Author's Note:**

> First published July 2009.

They huddled together in a corner of building, one of the few still standing.  They had managed to get Hot Spot to hold still finally by the simple and effective expedient of piling on top of him until he couldn't move anymore, but none of them could recharge, despite being low on fuel and exhausted beyond bearing.  Their processors wouldn't stop jolting from image to image, viewed from different perspectives, scenes from the long, horrifying cycle.  Mechs they had saved.  Ones they hadn't.  The ones that might have been saved, if only.  
  
“I still hear screaming.” Streetwise wearily tried to lift his head to look back towards the ruined city, and Hot Spot’s optics powered up again as he shifted a little beneath them. 

“There’s no one screaming,” Groove said, voice static-raspy but reassuring, leaning more on Hot Spot’s shoulder just in case he was thinking of getting up. “It’s all in your processor.” 

First Aid tucked Streetwise’s helm under his chin and added his own silent reassurance. There’s no one screaming. We saved all we could; it’s out of our hands now. First Aid knew that lesson very well. When they deactivated right under his hands, he knew it to his spark.  There’s no one screaming anymore. Just quiet now, just quiet and the rain. Acid rain, not something they could go play in, like they had done on their little planet, back when they were new-sparked. Still, it was rain, and it pattered with a friendly, familiar sound on the broken buildings and streets.   

Gradually the rain, and First Aid’s deep river of calm, began to trickle through them like a steady, soothing song. Processors quieted, began drifting, falling into peace and recharge at last…until Blades laughed, suddenly, in the gathering stillness, like a bright nova flare, and they all blinked and groaned and dragged themselves into exhausted wakefulness again.  

“Blades…” Hot Spot said drowsily, bringing up a hand to pat blindly on Blade’s helm. “What?”   

“We just turned one,” Blades whispered, grinning.  “Check your chronometers.” 

“One?” Streetwise mumbled sleepily, and then Hot Spot, laughing beneath them, “Hey, we really are! We’re one!”

“One whole vorn,” and First Aid and Groove traded smiles. 

“One,” Blades said, pressing the front of his helm against Hot Spot’s, close closer closer, until Hot Spot’s optics merged into a wide glowing red sky. “One.” 

“Happy one,” Hot Spot hugged them all close, in the ruined city as the rain came down. “Happy one to us.” 


End file.
